Environmental (Commonwealth Union)_ The gruesome video tells a story no government report ever could: a middle-aged farmer lying motionless in the red earth of Onitasin Imobi, his intestines spilled out on the ground like vile sacrifices to the gods of failed conservation. Musa Kalamu, a 49-year-old farmer and logger, became the latest casualty this Monday afternoon in Ogun State’s escalating war between humans and elephants, as his life was viciously ended by the very creatures that the government pledged to conserve.
As shocked villagers documented the aftermath on their phones, their anguished cries, “This elephant problem is too much for our community!” echoed through rural Nigeria, where protected wildlife is increasingly becoming predator. Police confirmation came swiftly: rogue elephants from a government forest reserve had struck again, and Kalamu died en route to the hospital. Behind this horrific incident, however, lies an inconvenient truth: we’ve created a situation where farmers and elephants cannot both live safely, and then we’re surprised when tragedy strikes.
The responses were choreographed. Forestry officials deployed teams to “curtail the animals.” Politicians offered promises and condolences. The local assemblyman, Owode Ifedolapo, called for calm and referred to “balance” between conservation and safety. However, Kalamu’s relatives and terrified neighbors perceive these words as meaningless, coming from a system that has long overlooked the human cost of wildlife conservation.
Such an incident is not just an animal attack; it’s the inevitable result of shrinking habitats colliding with spreading farmlands in a state where 40% of the land is under government forest reserves. Elephants, pushed by deforestation and climate change, raid crops to live. The farmers, fighting to feed families, occupy traditional migration paths. Caught in the middle are underfunded wildlife agencies with nothing but outdated policies and noble intentions.
Ifedolapo’s call for a “conservation development plan” exposes the fatal gap in Nigeria’s environmental policy: we save animals on paper and expose frontline communities to danger. Where are the elephant early warning systems? Where are the crop damage schemes that are paid for? Are there buffer zones separating migration routes from farms? Instead, we get reactive responses from forestry officials rushing in after deaths have occurred rather than preventing conflicts.
The bitter irony? The very elephants that are grabbing headlines for attacking farmers are themselves endangered, their populations dwindling due to poaching and habitat loss. Our conservation model generates situations where neither species emerges unscathed. With climate change already amplifying stress on land and resources, such conflicts will only multiply unless we fundamentally rethink human-wildlife coexistence.
Kalamu’s death must be more than another statistic in Nigeria’s growing tome of conservation deaths. When the Ogun State House of Assembly considers this tragedy, it must ask not just how to bind elephants, but why our policies put rural livelihoods and protected animals in conflict. True environmental stewardship protects forests and farmers alike; anything less is ecological theatre that leaves blood on the ground and entrails in the earth.
